


Hockey Pants are Good for Maximizing the Butt

by andicanthelpfallinginlovewithyou



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BUT I HAVE NO REGRETS, Hockey AU, Im tired and klance needs more hockey, M/M, This all began because of a hockey gif, i guess, i know two things about hockey so forgive my ignorance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 05:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12646968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andicanthelpfallinginlovewithyou/pseuds/andicanthelpfallinginlovewithyou
Summary: Klance on opposing hockey teams. This is entirely based on the practice in pro hockey where if a fight breaks out members of opposite teams will hold onto each other prevent two-on-one fights. Yes, Keith and Lamce will be holding each other. Yes, this is garbage. Enjoy!





	Hockey Pants are Good for Maximizing the Butt

Lance bounced his leg up and down as he watched the pregame warmup.

Specifically Red Cats’ fighter. 

He was unfairly attractive. Even though he could see traces of a black bullet under his helmet. He skidded to a stop in front of his coach and exchange a few terse words. He dropped his helmet into the guest team’s bench as he skated by, now only wearing hockey pants and a thin white shirt. 

Lance was suddenly exponentially more attracted to him.

A hockey glove ruffled his hair as his goalie sat down beside him. “You looking at Seventeen?” Hunk asked, retying his bandana to keep his hair out of his eyes. 

“Can you blame me? Seventeen is damn gorgeous.” He sighed dreamily. “Even though he’s got a mullet. I’m looking at my soulmate, Hunk!” 

“Didn’t you say that about that girl on the Arus Rogues? Twenty-one?” Hunk sniffed and scratched his nose. “Didn’t she push you into the boards and almost knock out one of your teeth?” 

“That’s in the past! Just look at him!” Lance could feel himself almost drooling.

“Garrison Thrashers, please take to the ice for your warm-up,” Shiro announced from the observation deck. The Red Cats filed onto the bench, pulling on their jerseys and helmets.   
Lance swooped onto the ice, leaving his helmet on the bench. Allura, Hunk, and Pidge followed close behind him, Hunk skating towards the net for goalie drills, Allura and Pidge joining Lance in skating drills. 

Allura smirked at him as they skidded to a stop before the net line. “Checking out Seventeen?” 

“How does everyone know about my love life?” Lance replied, almost tripping as he made brief eye contact with Seventeen on the bench. “It’s a shame he’s a fighter. I won’t get to hold on to him to keep him from ganging up on Pidge’s fights.” 

Pidge darted past him, skating backwards. “I’m not helping to set you up again!” she called, skating alarmingly fast. She barely missed crashing into Charles.

Lance tripped again, only saved from a broken nose by Allura grabbing his wrist. “You look like you’ve never skated before!” she hissed. “If you’re going to be off your game, we should switch positions. Okay?” 

He nodded, cheeks heating up. “Yeah.” It didn’t help that his brain was currently a loop an unholy combination of ‘Crazy in Love’ and ‘I Wanna Know What Love Is’. Or that his scumbag brain seemed to edit in anime sparkles and romcom slow-mo effects whenever Seventeen graced his periphery. 

Allura tied her hair back in preparation for the game. Her full, natural coils of black hair put just about everyone else to shame. It was goddess-level. Genetic and unattainable. 

The ref blew the whistle. Lance nodded to Allura and moved to his new post, as secondary defender to the goalie. 

The puck immediately went to the opposing team. Nineteen was fast, darting between the players like a hummingbird. The first goal was to the Red Cats.

The game was rough for everyone, but the first brawl happened in the first half, between Seventeen and Nat. Lance found himself latching onto Nineteen, and exchanged pleasantries in the time it took for the ref to see that there was indeed a fight. Nat got a penalty, and the Cats scored another goal on them. 

The second brawl was much more inclusive. Pidge and Ani both managed to get caught in a fight with Nineteen and Six, and this time Lance got lucky enough to latch onto Seventeen. 

“Good game so far,” he said awkwardly, one hand clasped on his shoulder. 

Seventeen had his hand around Lance’s shoulders, though stilted and awkward as well. “Yep. Good rink you’ve got. Nice town too.” 

“You’re from Phoenix, then?” 

“Yep.” 

And that was when the ref managed to separate the four. 

-

The game was hard-won, eighteen points to sixteen when the period timed out. Lance tore off his helmet as soon as he hit the changing rooms, letting the cold rink air hit his sweaty scalp. He hazarded a sniff to his jersey and made a face: _That’s gonna smell tomorrow._

As per usual, he was the last one there. He usually had more energy than he knew what to do with after a game, so he usually spent an hour after changing on a stationary bicycle. Dubstep blasted through his earbuds, bass-boosted to hell and shivering down his spine. 

Only after he stepped off the bike did he see Seventeen, standing awkwardly in the entryway. Without his gear, he was much less broad. His hair was contained by a red bandana, an assortment of clips, and a purple scrunchy. 

Lance took a long drink from his sports bottle, waving hello. “Hey, man,” he said, hoping he sounded cool. “Good game, by the way.” 

“Yeah, good game.” Seventeen strode forward and stuck out his hand. “I’m Keith. Keith Kogane.”

He shook his hand, trying to hold back a grin. “The name’s Lance,” he replied. “Good skating out there. Haven’t had a game so exciting since last season.” 

Keith fixed him with a quizzical look. “Isn’t this the season’s premiering game?” he asked, gently swaying from side to side. 

Lance blushed and laughed. “It’s a better complement than it seems, I promise!” 

Keith covered his mouth with his hand, eyes crinkling. _Oooh, I’m in deep shit._

Keith’s cheeks coloured slightly. “Well, I just wanted to say that I’m going to be in town for a couple more days, and I was wondering, if, uh, we could maybe have coffee sometime?” 

Lance was fairly certain that Keith had asked him out, but he couldn’t be sure with the screeching circus music in his head. “Yeah! Yeah, that sounds great!” he replied, a little too loud. “I mean, uh, I’d like that.” 

Keith smiled. “Cool. Here.” He held out his hand, holding a slip of paper between his index and middle finger. His fingers were painted deep red, the polish chipping away. “My number.” He tucked it into Lance’s shirt pocket, leaning forward and planting a kiss on his cheek. He pulled away slowly, smiling at the darkening colour in Lance’s cheeks. “See you soon, hotshot.” 

He turned and strode away, letting the door slam behind him. Lance rubbed his cheek, eyes wide. He kept his mouth shut for as long as possible, and hoped that Keith was out of earshot when he exploded: 

“I’VE GOT A DATE!”

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t recommend starting fights in hockey. Like literally every thing else i write, it’s a dumpster fire polished with steel wool, and unbetaed. Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.


End file.
